Departure Gate

Greg and Pip Lahey flew out of Hobart Airport on a Sunday morning, at the start of a three-week journey through Switzerland, Austria and Germany. The trip had been nineteen years in the saving. It combined the alpine engineering Greg had studied since university with a week of volunteer work Pip had arranged with refugee services in Vienna, and it was the first time in twelve years that the couple had gone anywhere without their children.

Oscar and Sarah were already staying at 19 Hobart Road in New Norfolk, where they would remain with Patrick and Jane Lahey until their parents came home. Pip had spent the previous weeks preparing for her absence with the thoroughness she brought to her casework: a folder of instructions covering medications, school arrangements, the children's preferences, and every emergency contact she could think of. Greg had shown each of the children the itinerary and explained what they would see at each stop.

Patrick drove the family to the airport. The farewell at the gate was cheerful and brief. Sarah, nine, clung to her mother for a moment and then turned to business, extracting promises of particular souvenirs from each parent in turn. Oscar, twelve, affected an indifference he did not feel. He had argued for weeks that he was old enough to go, had lost the argument, and was not yet ready to let it go; he allowed himself to be hugged and reminded his father about the Swiss chocolate.

Jane photographed the couple at the departure gate. Greg was checking the tickets for a third time. Pip was waving at the camera. The photograph was developed the following week, after the news from Switzerland had reached New Norfolk, and Jane kept it on her dresser for the rest of her life.

The flight left on time for Melbourne, the first leg of a journey to Zurich. Patrick drove the children back to New Norfolk in time for lunch.